Woodworm
by SilverMoonGrimm
Summary: Merlin's history of bad excuses has taken their toll on Arthur- oneshot


**A/N Hello! So, basically, this was kind of a challenge for me to write a fic for a show I have limited knowledge of. By 'limited knowledge', I mean, seen a few of the episodes and read some (okay, quite a bit) fanfics of. So hopefully it turned out fine. Enjoy!**

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 **Woodworm**

 **by SilverMoonGrimm**

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Merlin and Gwen were having a small chat while preparing breakfast in the kitchens when the door flew open in a way only the Prince would have thrown them open; grandly, showingly, and loudly. The other servants hurried to bow as he stalked towards Merlin. The warlock just rolled his eyes.

"Merlin."

"Yes, sire?"

"Woodworm exists." Merlin frowned, wondering if he needed to question the prince's sanity.

"Um . . ."

"The Langelin delegation brought it with them. They infected my father's nightstand through the walls. You've dealt with this before. I'm ordering you to get rid of them. Understand?"

"I- how am I supposed to do that exactly?"

"I dont know! Make something up. Say they're allergic to," He grabbed the container sitting closest to him. "Pickles."

"Allergic to pickles."

"Yes!"

"And you expect the King to believe this?"

Arthur scowled. "As your prince," He said much louder than previously, projecting across the entire room. "I am reminding you that creatures called woodworm do exist and, if questioned, you get rid of them with pickles. Spread the word. Happy, Merlin?"

He was still doubtful, but that would be Arthur's problem. But why would Arthur need to lie to his dad about woodworm? Unless . . .

He snickered. "You told your dad-"

"I panicked!"

"Still!"

"I was _trying_ not to say any idiotic excuses like you, but all I could think of was your stupid woodworm thing."

Merlin almost fell over laughing.

"Merlin."

He continued laughing.

"At least I got what I wanted." He dangled a key from finger. And not his pointer finger.

"Real mature." Gwen sighed. "What exactly is happening?"

"Arthur was snooping around his father's room when his dad woke up and Arthur said he was in there checking for woodworm and now he wants me to pretend woodworm is real so his dad'll believe him."

"No, I told him I came in to talk to him, when I _heard_ the woodworm."

"Don't be ridiculous. You have to be really close to hear woodworm."

"Well, I knocked something over, and when I put it back, my head was close to the nightstand and I heard it."

"They wouldn't be moving around if you don't knock on the wood!"

"But they're the most active in the morning! They were already moving around, burrowing or whatever."

"Burrowing."

"They burrow. How else do they move through wood?"

"What the hell do you think they are? Earthworms that live in wood instead of dirt?"

"That's what the name woodworm implies."

"How should you know? _I'm_ the woodworm expert around here!"

"Sure you are." He shoved the pickle jar into his manservant's chest. "Have fun pickling the King's bedchamber." The prince turned and began stalking out.

"Woodworm?" Gwen whispered.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "For a future king, he should really work on his excuses."

"Shut up, Merlin!"

"Yes, sire." Clutching the pickle jar, he headed out the second exit, on to pickle some nonexistent insects.

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Merlin had just exited a few moments prior when King Uther walked through the doors, causing the nearest servants to bow.

"You." The monarch pointed to a short boy who had previously been chopping up some carrots for lunch.

"Y-yes, my lord?"

"Where is 'woodworm' found?"

"Woodworm? My lord?"

"Yes. Woodworm."

"Er . . . in wood."

"And the proper way to rid the wood of these . . . creatures?"

The servant hesitated. Obey his king or his prince?

"Are you an idiot?"

"No sir." He quickly made his way to his decision, weighing the impact his words would eventually have on him. "You force them to leave with pickles."

"Pickles."

"Yes, sir. The worms don't like the pickles."

"I see." King Uther ruminated on this on his way out. Merlin, who had been anxiously listening in from the doorway gave a sigh of relief, not even protesting as Uther grabbed him by the shoulder on the way out, muttering something about 'blasted pests' and 'now my bedchamber will smell for weeks' and 'i don't even like pickles'.

Although disappointed Arthur didn't end up in trouble, Merlin enjoyed his small piece of revenge to Uther by dumping enough pickle juice in his room, that the place reeked of it a month later.

 _the end_


End file.
